8-7s. 1 HARK! a voice divides the sky, Happy are the faithful dead! In the Lord who sweetly die, They from all their toils are freed; Them the Spirit hath declared Blest, unutterably blest; Jesus is their great reward, Jesus is their endless rest.
2 Followed by their works, they go Where their Head hath gone before; Reconciled by grace below, Grace hath opened mercy's door; Justified through faith alone, Here they knew their sins forgiven, Here they laid their burden down, Hallowed, and made meet for heaven.
3 Who can now lament the lot Of a saint in Christ deceased? Let the world, who know us not, Call us hopeless and unblest: When from flesh the spirit freed Hastens homeward to return, Mortals cry, "A man is dead!" Angels sing, "A child is born!"
4 Born into the world above, They our happy brother greet, Bear him to the throne of love, Place him at the Saviour's feet; Jesus smiles, and says, "Well done, Good and faithful servant thou; Enter, and receive thy crown, Reign with me triumphant now."
5 Angels catch the approving sound, Bow, and bless the just award; Hail the heir with glory crowned, Now rejoicing with his Lord: Fuller joys ordained to know, Waiting for the general doom, When the archangel's trump shall blow, "Rise, ye dead, to judgment come!"
